My hand fisting in his hair.
His gasp is high, desperate.
“Cap—sir—” His lips parted like he already knows.
I lean low, voice flat, steady. “Five.”
He whimpers. Tries to hide in the collar of the jacket I gave him. Doesn’t work. My grip tightens until he tips his head back, throat bared.
“Did you think I’d wait until we were home, pup?” I murmur, eyes cutting into him while traffic hums outside. “You opened that pretty mouth in front of the whole locker room. You gave me a number.”
His chest heaves. “I—I didn’t—fuck—I wasn’t—”
“You were.” My thumb drags slow over his jaw, pressing enough to make him gasp. “And now you’re going to give me five. Right here. Right now.”
His whimper cracks higher, thighs shifting restless against the seat. He grips the edge of the console like it’ll save him, but his voice comes out wrecked.
“Yes, sir.”
Good boy.
I ease the SUV onto the highway, one hand heavy on the wheel, the other still tangled in his curls. My chest rumbles low, steady.
“Undo your belt.”
He gasps. His hands twitch. But he obeys, fumbling clumsy with the buckle until it clicks free, his breath sharp in the hum of tires on asphalt.
“Pants down,” I order, calm as death.
He whines, but he shoves them down anyway.
The city lights streak across the windshield, cold and gold, while my pup trembles bare beside me.
And I haven’t even started.
My hand stays tight in Elias’s hair as I steer us onto the main road. He’s panting already, pants shoved halfway down his thighs, belt clinking against the console.
“Hands,” I order.
His green eyes flick up, wide, wrecked. “S-sir—”
“On your cock, pup.” My tone doesn’t shift. “Now.”
A whimper cracks out of him, but he obeys. Fingers shaking, he wraps his own hand around himself, already slick at the tip, already twitching from nothing but my grip in his hair and my voice in his ear.
“That’s it,” I murmur, my eyes cutting from the road to the wrecked mess trembling beside me. “Stroke it. Slow.”
His breath stutters. His fist moves once, twice, dragging desperate down his length. A gasp breaks from his throat, legs trembling against the leather seat.
“Good boy,” I rasp, shifting gears with one hand while the other tugs his curls harder, forcing his head back against the seat. “You wanted to give me attitude in front of the whole team? Then you can make yourself come five times for me.”
“F-five—”
“Yes.” My thumb presses into his pulse, steady. “Start counting.”
He moans, low and frantic, hand moving faster now as the SUV hums beneath us, city lights streaking across the windshield. Every sound he makes ricochets in the cab, every gasp turning higher the closer he gets.
The corner of my mouth tugs when I smirk, eyes steady on the dark road ahead.
